


#31: Eat Lunch with the New Kids

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: 100 Rules for Adults (That Clint Barton Never Learned) [31]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint makes friends, Gen, Lunch, SHIELD Academy, mention of injury, sharing meals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:49:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2627366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil and Clint get sent to the Academy to recover from injury. Clint makes new friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#31: Eat Lunch with the New Kids

Clint carried his tray through the canteen filled with cadets as he looked for an open seat. 

Coulson was recovering from an injury, so had been sent to teach at the Academy, since keeping him on base with “light duty” was just asking for his medical leave to be extended. Fury, in his wisdom, sent Clint with him.

Clint thought it was because Fury didn’t have the patience to deal with him.

Clint didn’t really blame him.

He couldn’t find a completely empty table so with a shrug, he headed toward a mostly full table near the back; he wouldn’t be able to see everything, but it’d be close, and at least he wouldn’t have to have his back to the door. “Y’mind?” he asked the group of students as he slid into one of the two empty seats.

One of the young ladies shook her head, staring at him, wide-eyed as the rest of the table fell silent. 

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he said, positioning his tray and reaching for the coffee he needed in preparation of the training exercise he was supposed to be helping with in an hour. Conversation around the table remained dead as he stirred in the two packets of sugar he’d picked up. 

Glancing up, he found they were all watching him curiously. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“You’re Hawkeye,” one of the young men said quietly, his dark eyes wide.

Clint nodded, double checking his sandwich for a lack of onions as requested (it wasn’t that he was picky, it was that he didn’t want to be stuck in a room with someone with onion breath, and wouldn’t be the one to inflict it on others). “I am,” he agreed. Satisfied, he smushed his sandwich back together and took a bite. He quirked an eyebrow to ask ‘and?’ because Coulson had taught him some manners. 

“Is it true,” one of the girls spoke up, a tiny little thing with her dark hair in two long braids and what looked like full sleeve tattoos peeking out from under the cuffs of her long-sleeved shirt. “That you used to be in the circus?”

Clint nodded, swallowing. “Until I was about 18,” he replied. 

That seemed to open the floodgates, and Clint spent his lunch time answering questions from the curious cadets, on everything from how Fury lost his eye, to whether or not SHIELD was actually working on time-travel technology, to if the rumors that Coulson had shot him while recruiting were true (they weren’t; it had been Fury). 

Clint glanced at the time. “Sorry, guys, but I’ve got a training session. It was nice meeting you all,” he said honestly. Despite their overwhelming enthusiasm, they seemed to be good kids. And Christ, when had he gotten so old that he thought of the cadets as kids? 

“Agent Barton?” the tiny girl, Suzette, asked. 

He looked up from gathering his trash into a small ball.

“We eat lunch at the same time every day,” she offered. “You’re welcome to join us, so long as you’re posted here.”

Clint smiled and nodded. “Thanks,” he said, meaning it.


End file.
